The noise of a
trotting horse came from the road. "Lorenzi," thought Casanova. The
hoofbeats echoed for a time from the garden wall, until sound and echo
gradually died away.
At length Casanova's luck turned. The Marchese staked more and more
boldly. By midnight Casanova was as poor as at the beginning; nay,
poorer, for he had lost the few ducats with which he had made his first
venture. Pushing the cards away, he stood up with a smile, saying:
"Thank you, gentlemen, for a pleasant game."
Olivo stretched out both hands towards Casanova. "Dear friend, let us
go on with the game. .... You have a hundred and fifty ducats. Have you
forgotten them? Not only a hundred and fifty ducats, but all that I
have, everything, everything." His speech was thick, for he had been
drinking throughout the evening.
Casanova signified his refusal with an exaggerated but courtly gesture.
"Luck and women cannot be constrained," he said, bowing towards the
Abbate, who nodded contentedly and clapped his hands.
"Till to-morrow, then, my dear Chevalier," said the Marchese. "We will
join forces to win the money back from Lieutenant Lorenzi.
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